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A Hunter Under The Mistletoe: All Is Bright / Heat of a Helios
Karen Whiddon
Addison Fox
Passion is ablaze under the Las Vegas sun this holiday seasonAll Is Bright by Addison FoxBut all is not certainly not calm. Not with his employee, Evangeline Kennedy, posing an impossible temptation for Rafael Stavros. Not when all signs suggest Evangeline could put the whole race of Helios—a very sexy race of supernatural phoenixes—in danger. But Rafe knows not to trust appearances in Vegas. Especially when his heart tells him otherwise!Heat of a Helios by Karen WhiddonThis Christmas, all pop star Meghan Frost wants is Gabriel Stavros. But little does she know that the hunk who runs the Archangel casino is really a Helios. Or that he's her age-old enemy. Dare she believe in some holiday magic that could unite the unlikeliest of allies?


Praise for Addison Fox
“An intricate, action-filled plot and steady pacing create an engaging read.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Royal Spy’s Redemption
“This is the kind of story that true romance readers, like myself, love and have a hard time putting down till you read the last page.”
—Fresh Fiction on The London Deception
Praise for Karen Whiddon
“I love how this book is a sweet romance but also manages to be an action-packed story that…keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Aussie Bookworm on The Wolf Siren
“A nice backstory and exciting plot make this a must-read.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Wolf Siren (4.5 stars)
“The Lost Wolf’s Destiny is action-packed with a lot of twists and turns that lead the reader on an amazing ride.”
—Fresh Fiction
A Hunter Under the Mistletoe
All Is Bright
Addison Fox
Heat of a Helios
Karen Whiddon


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u6672a62c-0197-5998-8c71-bc0ca62414b1)
Praise (#u277207dd-5785-578f-b636-3798bab641c8)
Title Page (#u49ed7342-aadd-5bfd-82fe-6c557854e3b0)
About the Authors (#u484ee7a8-eec4-5f14-9e35-9bca6e9db816)
All Is Bright (#ulink_d3edde21-4ef1-5a9c-90ec-0038ad72e0a5)
Dedication (#u716e5607-8063-5ffc-b53f-68598ef34a1a)
Prologue (#uad64d85d-dbcb-5cdd-a5f1-99d9c0423b3f)
Chapter 1 (#ua1770e9b-8b8c-5238-b67c-889394a25dcf)
Chapter 2 (#u3a868599-3528-55f4-985c-7f264f8b8aff)
Chapter 3 (#ub2d7c36b-9a7d-556d-87da-35dfb5024daf)
Chapter 4 (#u27c35949-a31c-5b4a-a08e-9eb8babf1793)
Chapter 5 (#u9d978267-6ec8-508c-abb5-6c312a6d670a)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Heat of a Helios (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 2 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-afters. There’s nothing she enjoys more than penning novels about two strong-willed, exciting people on that magical fall into love. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with family and friends, reading or enjoying a glass of wine. Contact Addison at her website—www.addisonfox.com (http://www.addisonfox.com)—or catch up with her on Facebook (addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).
KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amid the gorgeous Catskill Mountains, then the majestic Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen now lives in north Texas, writes full-time and volunteers for a boxer dog rescue. She shares her life with her hero of a husband and four to five dogs, depending on if she is fostering. You can email Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.com (mailto:KWhiddon1@aol.com). Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com (http://www.karenwhiddon.com).
All Is Bright (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
Addison Fox
For Carly
An editor’s job is made up of many parts—active cheerleader, gentle guide, creative steward and, always, stalwart champion. You do each of those things with amazing aplomb (and really awesome gifs).
This time you also brought the understanding.
Thank you.
Prologue (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
Evangeline Kennedy was superstitious enough not to tempt fate and practical enough not to care when she did. So after firing two team members who’d taken it upon themselves to give some friends restricted access to the employee entrance of the Archangel Casino where she worked, she’d estimated it was safe to assume her day couldn’t get worse.
Until that night when she saw a man consumed in a ball of orange flame.
She wasn’t even supposed to be working, but the holiday installations needed to be finalized and there was simply no way she could go home and leave them unfinished. Which was how she found herself on her knees in the dirt, on the grounds beside the infinity pool that served as the property’s lone—and wildly popular—topless destination.
The sun worshippers had long vanished for the day, trading their golden glow for an evening among the restaurants, bars and gaming tables the Archangel prided itself on. Evangeline sat back on her heels and took in the mix of ivy, poinsettia and lights she’d spent the better part of eight hours planting, irrigating and arranging. She’d been cultivating the poinsettia on her own in the property’s large greenhouse, unwilling to miss out on the color palate she wanted by the possibility of someone else’s carelessness. Poinsettia color was a tricky thing, after all.
And oh, wow, did it pop.
Even in the nighttime lighting that flooded the grounds, she could see the reds, creams and marbled pinks she’d been aiming for, with a well-placed burst of orange mixed in. The wash of vibrant hues would catch the eye, just as she planned. Even better, the installation—a layered structure guests would pass from their rooms near the pool and on into the casino—would match the look, feel and tone she’d built across the property.
As the Archangel’s horticultural architect, Evangeline had full range of the grounds, the only mandate that she continue to use wild explosions of color and unexpected installations of flowers to resemble a walk through an artist’s canvas more so than a Las Vegas casino. And damn it, she thought with no small measure of pride, she did it well.
She wiped a bead of sweat that worked its way down her temple toward her cheek and admired her handiwork. Those two slackers, Troy and Victor, could bite her. Even if it was three in the morning, she hadn’t eaten since noon and she was due in for a presentation with the casino brass in another five hours, she could sit for a minute and admire her handiwork.
The poinsettias had been a gamble. The plant was fairly hardy in the subtropical climates that had been its origin, but the Nevada soil was tricky, the desert climate something that required continued overcompensation.
Sort of like you.
Evangeline shook off the strange thought and stood. While she didn’t regret her earlier choice in firing two members of her team, the harsh words she’d had with Troy and Victor had left an unpleasant aftertaste that had tinged the edges of her thoughts while she worked.
Loosen up. What’s the big deal? No one cheated or anything after we let them in.
The big boss is so busy earning money and overcharging people for food and liquor he’s not going to notice a few guys in the back door.
You’re a bitch of a boss, anyway. Who wants to spend all day with some compulsive, anal need to plant some stupid flowers?
It had been the last that had struck with surprisingly sharp claws. She’d believed herself in tune with her employees, enjoying a relatively easy camaraderie and kinship over their work. From Troy and Victor’s abrupt exit interview, it sounded like she needed to rethink that perspective.
Perhaps she needed to rethink a lot of things.
With one final look at her handiwork, Evangeline resolved to shake off the malaise and the unpleasant memory. Careless employees didn’t matter. Her work spoke for itself. And if she needed to think about getting a hobby or find a way to spend more of her personal time off the Archangel’s grounds, then she would think about that in the New Year.
She wrapped her tools in the oversize canvas bag she carried everywhere, the heavy, jangling weight a comfort and reassurance as she walked down a small, nearly hidden curved pathway toward the greenhouse. She’d stow her things, grab her purse and would be home and asleep in less than half an hour.
The late November air wafted over her skin, a cool breeze that refreshed more than it chilled. Although the season was limited, Las Vegas did experience winter. The sunny days usually compensated for any cold, but the desert lost its warmth at night, here on the floor of the Mojave. Evangeline slipped into the button-down shirt she’d tied haphazardly at her waist, juggling the thick canvas holding her tools.
It was only when she came around the last corner, the hothouse in sight, that she came to a sudden halt. A wall of heat washed over her, the blaze searing in its intensity as it reflected off the floor-to-ceiling windows of the greenhouse.
Fire!
She instinctively stepped back, the heat blanketing her in another wave as she searched for the source of the blaze. Bright orange flames rose toward the sky, the heat immense even as she tried to focus on the source. The fire seemed…contained. Oddly still, even.
Was it possible?
The lawn appeared untouched, as did the building. Standing her ground and forcing herself to take stock of the blaze in order to understand how to fight it, Evangeline’s gaze swept the wide-open lawn, the two-story greenhouse, the rolling flower beds that edged toward the rim of the property.
It was only when she turned her attention once more toward the fire that a scream rose up in her throat.
As the orange and red snapped their fangs, forming and reforming in that strange, isolated blaze, she finally understood its shape.
And saw a man trapped in the flames.
Shit, hell and damn.
Those and several other, more inventive curses floated through Rafael Stavros’s mind in the few seconds before he lost consciousness, an image of the lovely Evangeline Kennedy imprinted in his thoughts.
He’d pushed it tonight, allowing a meeting to run long. Which meant he hadn’t made it to his rooms before the fire came upon him.
Before that lone moment in his pristinely ordered world when he lost control.
Chapter 1 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
She’d nearly called in sick the next day. Even with a frantic scramble to find hotel security and a solid belt or two of whiskey when she got home, Evangeline couldn’t shake what she’d seen.
A man on fire.
She’d been unable to move, shocked when the flames that had warmed her all over suddenly vanished as if they’d never been, the air and grounds once again still. It was only once she’d moved closer to the sight of the blaze, the grass untouched and still cooled by the night air, that she’d run for help.
Security had come with her to the site, then reassured her over and over there wasn’t anything wrong. It had only been her insistence to watch the security feed that had finally sent her home in a puzzled haze.
Mac, the lead on duty, had replayed the tapes of that quadrant of the grounds. She’d watched herself come around the corner. Had even seen the look of shock paint her face. But when she stared at the space where the burning man should be, the grounds looked as calm and peaceful as a baby sleeping.
But damn it, she’d seen him. His long, powerful form had been consumed by the fire, and the wall of heat shot off by the flames had felt like the combined power of ten furnaces. She’d never felt anything like it.
How could something so strong and powerful remain so contained? How hadn’t it spread? And why the hell wasn’t it showing up on the security cameras or in the spot where the fire had been?
“Miss Kennedy.” The office admin nodded to her. “They will see you now.”
Evangeline smiled at the woman, a perfect complement to the powerful outer office she found herself in. Thick, plush carpet muffled the noise of her steps and a soft, gentle hum of elegance pervaded the air.
Had she ever looked that perfect? From the artful makeup, to the stylish hair, to the trim jacket that stopped at the woman’s hips, the admin to the great and powerful Stavros family was perfection and grace personified.
“Thank you.” Evangeline scrambled to her feet, inwardly acknowledging that, no, she’d never managed that look. She was a woman who preferred dirt to pearls and comfortable, baggy cargo pants to a skirt any day. The outfit she’d managed for her meeting—a plum silk shirt and a trim pair of black slacks—was about as dressy as she got.
“Thank you for the tree.” The woman pointed toward the towering pine in the corner of the office, immaculately decorated in a wash of red and white. “I understand you managed the decorations throughout the property. They’re way better than what we had last year.”
The primary reason she’d snagged the job, but Evangeline didn’t say anything. Instead, she nodded. “Thank you. I have a supplier I’ve used for several years. His trees are the best.”
“No arguments here.” The admin held open the door to the inner sanctum of the Archangel’s brass, a secretive smile playing about her lips. “Knock ’em dead.”
Before Evangeline could attempt to respond, she was through the door, staring down the two brothers who ran the Archangel.
She’d met them before, of course, and had seen them around the grounds, but the wall of masculinity that greeted her was something to behold. Gabriel and Rafael Stavros, sons of powerful casino mogul Michael Stavros, were an impressive sight. Dubbed The Archangels by the press, they were as easily found in the business news as the gossip pages.
In fact, Evangeline amended to herself, their bachelor status ensured they occupied those gossip pages with shocking regularity.
She thought them both attractive—and had yet to meet a woman on staff who didn’t—but something about Rafael Stavros had always drawn her more intensely than his brother. With the dark hair that shagged a bit too long around his neck and the piercing gray eyes that always reminded her of a winter storm, he was a study in contrasts.
Delicious contrasts, the small voice in her head that kept her perpetual company whispered.
Shaking off the fanciful that had no place in a business meeting, she shifted her portfolio to her other hand and shook the outstretched palms before her. After the standard pleasantries, it was Rafe who spoke first. “It’s lovely to see you again, Evangeline.”
“You, as well.”
“Gabe and I took a look at the installation at the infinity pool this morning. It’s good work.”
“Thank you.”
The gray eyes that had occupied more than a few of her fantasies hardened. “Work you did yourself, I understand?”
“It’s nothing I—”
“It’s good work.” Gabe spoke over Evangeline, stilling any further comment. “And as I understand it, we’re well rid of the two men on your team.”
The focus on two employees who shouldn’t have mattered a whit to either man was a surprise and she tried to remember there was little that happened in their casino either of them missed. “I spoke to Human Resources immediately after it happened, Mr. Stavros. Troy and Victor were escorted from the property, their photos circulated in Security immediately.”
“Which is how I found out about it so quickly.” Gabe’s eyes twinkled, his smile broad and far more inviting than his brother’s.
So why did her gaze keep darting to Rafe?
“Why don’t I leave you two to the discussion at hand and I’ll go make sure those photos have, in fact, been circulated to the staff.” Gabe leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. “Enjoy your meeting, Evangeline.”
A small frown lit Rafe’s face and she scrambled to understand why he’d be upset. Troy and Victor were her responsibility and she could dismiss a member of her team for infractions.
“I apologize if I overstepped with the employees. I caught them—”
Rafe stepped forward, his large form seemingly even larger in the fitted cut of his black suit. “You think I’m mad about that?”
“You don’t seem happy.”
“You were forced to finish the infinity pool installation all on your own.”
“It was fine. It’s my job.”
“I don’t expect you to work at three in the morning.”
“But that’s what was required to—”
Once again, he cut her off, his frown carving deeper grooves in his cheeks. “It’s not required and it isn’t healthy.”
Although her role as lead of the horticultural program at the Archangel was the pinnacle of her career thus far, Evangeline had worked her way up to the position, taking jobs up and down the Strip since moving to Las Vegas shortly after college. She’d spent her career working long hours and had never once been reprimanded for it.
An image exploded in her thoughts—the burning man on the grounds. She’d briefly forgotten him in the tempting testosterone of the Stavros brothers but the strong memory hadn’t lain dormant for long.
Did Rafe know? Was that why he didn’t want her working late? Curious, she pressed him. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to my responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities don’t require you to keep a schedule of eighteen straight hours of manual labor. It’s neither healthy nor good for you.”
“I manage just fine.”
“It’s dangerous work if you’re tired.”
“Yes, well the holiday season comes once a year and leaving beds of empty dirt all over the property where plants should be is hardly festive. I’m not a slacker like your former horticulture lead and I’d think you would appreciate the effort.”
“It’s not a matter of appreciation.”
“So maybe you should say thank you and we can move on.” Evangeline waited for the inevitable result of her bold words—narrowed eyes and a small layer of shock at her frankness—before she pressed her advantage. “Or perhaps you’d like to tell me why there was a burning man on the property at three o’clock this morning?”
Rafe had to give her credit—Evangeline Kennedy was crafty. Able-bodied and brassy, she’d come into the Archangel like a whirling dervish and almost eleven months later hadn’t slowed down. She fascinated him, with her long, coltish gait and thick, curly hair that was perpetually piled atop her head.
But it was her eyes. A rich brown the color of the finest dark chocolate. Every time he looked at her, he could swear she saw him to the very depths of his soul.
She had old eyes. Ancient eyes. Just like the curse he bore upon his body as surely as it was the greatest gift he possessed.
She’d intrigued him immediately, the woman who’d stood on his property, giving hell to the former horticulture expert they’d had on staff. Although Don Casey had a strong reputation throughout Las Vegas, Rafe and Gabe had soon discovered the man’s penchant for the bottle had dulled his artistic sensibilities to be virtually nonexistent. He’d been on the hunt for someone new when Evangeline took matters into her own hands.
Presumably visiting the property one evening on a stroll down the Strip, she’d seen Don butchering an installation, designed to look like a heard of African elephants marching in a row through the lobby. She’d berated Don, then ripped several tools from his grip. Evangeline was on her knees, patting a thick hoof into place in the lobby when Rafe had come upon her.
Gabe had quickly ushered Don away, saving what small amount of pride the man had left, leaving Rafe to deal with the dirt-stained harpy in his lobby. He’d nearly yelled right back at her until he saw the small, frustrated tears that filled the corners of her eyes.
And damn it to hell, if she hadn’t caught him by the balls in that moment, and all the moments since.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Stavros.”
Images of those big brown eyes, swimming with the lightest sheen of tears, faded in the face of those same eyes, alight in banked fury. “What are you talking about? If anything was burning on my property beyond the couples on the dance floor at Spark, I’d know about it.”
“Last night. The property outside the greenhouse. I saw a man burning.”
“Impossible.”
Rafe knew just how possible it was, but he held his ground, unwilling to break his gaze. “I am aware of all incidents that happen on property and nothing burned last night.”
“Then explain to me what I saw.”
Rafe folded his hands behind his back and stared down at her. He only had a slight height advantage and estimated her around five-nine or -ten to his six-two. “A late-night hallucination after pushing yourself for eighteen hours?”
“I know what I saw.”
“And I know what goes on here at the Archangel. We had no fire last night.”
The slightest tilt of her head was the only sign she mulishly didn’t believe him, but she was all business when she next spoke. “I brought the designs you requested.”
“Let’s get to them.” He gestured her to a seat at the long conference table that dominated the far wall of his office.
In moments, he had visions of a forest glade rising in his mind, scattered with wood nymphs, centaurs and sprites as she walked him through her designs. “You want an evil queen, too?”
“She has to be there.” Evangeline tapped on the edge of the layout, the paper equivalent of the west side of his lobby. “It’s an enchanted forest, drawing the guest from an inviting jaunt past the fairy glade farther and deeper into the installation. Once they realize they’re in the queen’s clutches, it’s too late to turn back.”
“And you can do this in a week?”
“With your approval my team will start construction of the basics this week. We’ll create the forms off-site and bring them in for the final installation just after the New Year.”
“No rest through Christmas?”
He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, the idea that she took no time for herself. He was no stranger to work, the casino business a twenty-four-hour-a-day job.
“I wasn’t aware the casino closed during the holidays. And I’ve made provisions in the timing to accommodate everyone’s reduced vacation schedules.”
“And what about you?” He laid a hand over hers. “Will you be taking some vacation?”
Her hand stiffened beneath his, but Rafe was intrigued to see she didn’t remove it. “I have no need of vacation time now.”
“Nor have you taken any since joining the Archangel?”
She slipped her hand from his, folding the large architectural rendering into a roll. “What’s this sudden interest in the hours I work?”
“I’m a concerned employer. All work and no play makes one dull and uninteresting.”
A small smile tugged the corner of her lips. “I spend my days doing what I love. Vacation is unnecessary.”
Rafe stilled, the security review he’d conducted at five that morning—post-recovery—filling his thoughts. “I love what I do, as well. It doesn’t negate the need to change the scenery every now and again. Do something simply for myself.”
She inclined her head ever so slightly, but didn’t back down. “As is your choice.”
“These designs are approved.”
The rapid change in subject had the desired effect, her eyes hazing over briefly as she sought to keep up. “Approved? Just done?”
“Yes.”
“No one else has to see them?”
“Who else would?”
“Right.”
When that cute look of confusion continued to stamp itself across her face, Rafe added, “I know quality when I see it. I also know an idea that will bring people into my casino, potentially enticing them to stay and play. Your fairy glade and evil witch will be a perfect enchantment once the holidays are over.”
“Thank you.”
“I only have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“What happens when they get past the evil queen?”
Evangeline tapped the rolled paper on the table, all confusion gone from her eyes. “It’s all up to the guest.”
“Oh?”
“They can turn right back the way they came. Or they can push past her and straight on through to the other side and try their luck in your casino.”
“Cowardice or greed, Miss Kennedy?”
“I’d say it fits most people to a T.”
He couldn’t say why his conversation with Evangeline unsettled him, but three hours later Rafe was still restless as he prowled the casino floor. He’d spent a few moments glad-handing the high rollers, thanking them for their business and ensuring they were comfortable with all the Archangel’s accommodations. As three of the five individuals he met with had been back several times, he took it as a noteworthy sign his staff was exceeding expectations—as expected.
After the floor visits he moved on up to Security. The command center was the heart of the property’s sophisticated security system and the high-tech room boasted a setup as slick as NASA, only with newer equipment. He and his brother had maintained his father’s practice—all technology was upgraded annually.
The Archangel was their business and their sanctuary and they were committed to it staying profitable and safe. As a result, the security team was handpicked and compensated handsomely for seeing to both.
“Floor’s looking good today.” Charlie, the husband of one of Rafe’s multitude of cousins, greeted him. The grizzled ex-marine had shoulders like a linebacker and eyes as flat as a cobra. And two pictures of his one-year-old twin daughters dotted his console, both decked out in frilly pink.
“No issues with the weeklong bachelor party in quadrant six?”
“Nope. All of ’em already moved on to their rooms, the decidedly overt flirtations of a group of conference goers reassigning their priorities.” Charlie shook his head. “Casino hormones. Nothing else on earth as powerful.”
“Except how cute Alexis and Andie are.”
Those flat eyes warmed immediately, Charlie’s gaze flicking to the photos of his girls. “They’re amazing. And will be locked up in roughly two decades to avoid the same sort of business that recently went down in quadrant six.”
“No casino hormones for them?”
“Over my dead body. And any men who dare to touch them.”
A thoroughly unpleasant image filled his mind’s eye at the clear promise in those words as Rafe patted Charlie’s shoulder. He was about to head to Gabe’s office when something caught his eye on the pool cams. “There.” Rafe pointed toward the top row of screens. “Zoom in on the west pool.”
Charlie moved quickly over the console, the image transferring to a larger viewing screen in the center of the room. “This what you want?”
“Yep. Zoom in on the area in front of the greenhouse.”
Charlie did as he was asked, but his tone was speculative as he manipulated the image on-screen. “Busy part of the property. I hear the night crew spent quite a bit of time on this sector last night.”
“Son of a bitch.” Rafe shook his head, another more inventive curse following his first. “Damn fool woman.”
Although Charlie’s shift to the big screen in the center added breadth and depth to the image, Evangeline was just as unmistakable on the smaller screen. She moved over the area in front of the greenhouse, her steps slow and plodding as she retraced the night before.
But it was the moment she knelt and bent toward the earth, her hands roaming over the exact spot where he’d burst into flames, that had Rafe out of the security room and headed for the far side of the Archangel.
Chapter 2 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
Evangeline traced and retraced her steps, searching for anything that might prove there was a fire in the area in front of the greenhouse. Yet no matter how hard she searched, each blade of grass was as pristine and green as the one next to it.
She knew horticulture. And the earth. And how the soil nurtured what grew within it. Fire was a natural form of renewal, even with the immediate destruction it left in its path.
But she also knew herself. She trusted her instincts and she sure as hell trusted her eyes.
And last night she saw a man burning in this very spot.
Yet Rafe Stavros stood there this morning, plain as day, and told her nothing had happened the night before on the property.
Was he hiding something? She’d spent her life in Las Vegas and was well aware of the city’s more seedy reputation. More than a few had lost their souls in the desert—gambling was a gateway to any number of crimes. While she’d always believed she worked for one of the more honest and upstanding employers on the Strip, it was always possible the Stavros family was into any number of poor practices.
“What are you doing out here?”
Evangeline popped back on her heels as the low voice washed over her from behind. “Checking the grass.”
“For?”
She thrust her chin out and stared up at him. “Signs of burn marks.”
“Find any?”
“No.”
It shocked her how defeated she felt. She knew what she’d seen, damn it. A man stood in this very spot the night before, on fire. People didn’t just imagine those things.
Even if your mother had?
The small voice whispered through her mind, as scary as it was real. Her memories might be that of a child’s, but Evangeline could still remember the sleepless nights as her mother descended into madness.
“Come with me.” Rafe stood above her, his hand extended. She took in those long, tapered fingers, the strength in them evident as she accepted what he offered.
“Where are we going?”
“For reasons that elude me, you seem offended when I suggest you’re working too hard.”
“I most certainly am no—” Her words—and the corresponding tug of her hand against his—were cut off as Rafe pulled her against his body.
A reply died in her throat as she took in the hard, firm lines of Rafael Stavros. Absorbed them, really. Although she’d—reluctantly—had more than a few thoughts about that body pressed against hers, she couldn’t deny the raw power she felt in the thick musculature beneath that finely cut suit.
Oh, what would it be like to simply stay there, wrapped in the protection of that large, powerful body? He channeled it well, his physicality. Wielded it as easily as he wore five-thousand-dollar suits and several generations of Stavros wealth.
Rafe moved through the gentle swish of electronic doors, the cool, refined air of the hotel wafting over them. His feet echoed on the thick marble floor, a sound of purpose and power, while her sneakers thunked and squeaked beside him. It was only when they reached the entrance to the spa that Evangeline registered their destination.
“What are you doing?”
“You need some rest and relaxation. As luck would have it, I can provide both.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“You afraid of a little massage oil?” The question was flat—bland, even—but Evangeline didn’t miss the unholy light that flared in his gaze. The normal storm-cloud gray had turned a liquid silver, tempting and oh so tantalizing as they stood in the entrance of the spa.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then after you.”
He gestured her forward and she had the choice to stay stubbornly still or nod and move forward.
“Mr. Stavros.” The woman who headed up the spa—Madelina, Evangeline remembered—came up to them immediately. Her gaze showed nothing but Evangeline couldn’t quite squelch the urge to hide her dirt-stained hands behind her back. “How can I be of help today?”
“My friend here needs the full spa package.”
Madelina’s gaze shifted to assessing, scouring Evangeline head to toe, before she gave a solid nod. “Hot stone massage. Ninety minutes. Facial. Manicure. Pedicure. With paraffin, of course.”
“Of course,” Rafe added, his voice solemn, even if that light in his eyes remained stubbornly, wickedly, bright.
“I don’t need any of this. And I certainly don’t need goop on my fingers when all I’m going to do is shove them right back into the dirt.”
She held out her hands proudly, trying to prove her point when Madelina’s elegant fingers wrapped around hers, stilling Evangeline’s movements. “Then it’s all the more important to protect your greatest asset.”
“Call me when she’s finished.” Rafe bit out the edict before turning on his heel.
Although it nearly killed her, Evangeline threw her last card. “I don’t have the money for this.”
Rafe barely gave her a backward glance. “Then it’s good you know the owner. I’ve got plenty.”
Rafe flipped through the file he maintained on Evangeline. He managed the materials himself, unwilling to go through the security team on the details of her or her background.
Orphaned at seven.
Bumped to several foster homes before declaring as an emancipated minor at sixteen.
Worked multiple jobs after that, including a flower shop in Henderson, a crummy little casino barely making it down on Fremont, and wedding bouquets for a nearby chapel.
“Doesn’t let any grass grow under her feet,” he muttered, an image of her doing just that filling his mind’s eye. She wasn’t going to give up on her supposed man on fire and he damn well knew a few hours of spa time wasn’t going to change that.
Rafe continued scanning the file, his careful notes an accompaniment to the various pieces of intel he’d gathered over the past year. Her background had been surprisingly easy to uncover, even with his ability to get details on most anyone he wanted. There was easy and then there was easy, and Evangeline fell into the latter category.
And what he’d learned during that investigation had stopped him cold.
Her father had been a Hunter, focused in and around Las Vegas for the legion of Chaos-seekers who hunted Rafe and his people, the Helios. Their age-old enemies, the Hunters believed eradicating the Helios would unleash their master—Chaos—on the world.
As with most things with the ancients, life was never that easy, and modern times brought modern challenges. There was plenty of chaos in the twenty-first century world, and Rafe doubted some epic battle with a band of zealots would change that much.
None of it changed the fact he and his people were hunted. Plotted against. And constantly under threat.
Was it possible Evangeline was one of them?
The bio had been straightforward and bleak—Hank Kennedy had drifted in and out of jail throughout his late twenties and early thirties before turning his skills and his loyalty toward the Las Vegas area’s corps of Hunters. A suspicious fight in the desert late one night hadn’t ended well for Hank or a fellow addict and he’d left his wife and child alone and destitute.
Nothing about the intel had sat well and Rafe had kept a purposeful distance from Evangeline over the past year, in favor of watching and monitoring her. Other than their bimonthly meetings to discuss the property, he avoided contact with her.
And had been more than surprised to see she kept to herself, worked like she had no life outside the casino and generally flew under the radar.
Until last night.
Damn, why had he waited when he knew his Rejuvenation was upon him?
Rafe’s head snapped up at the hard slam of his door. Gabe crossed the plush carpet soundlessly, even as his large frame quivered in agitated, restless motion. “You burned in front of her?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t screw with me. Last night. Evangeline Kennedy saw you? Midtransformation?”
He never lied to his brother, but the anger and frustration laser-focused on him was barely an adequate mirror for his own shame and embarrassment. Hell, he hadn’t lost control like that since he was fourteen and coming into his power.
“Yes.”
“Mind telling me why you were hanging around, full well knowing you were running hot?”
“I had a meeting that ran late.”
His brother slashed a hand through the air. “No excuse.”
“It is when you’re courting three foreign whales with several whale friends back home.”
Gabe snorted, clearly unconvinced, even with Rafe’s argument about squiring several high rollers around the property. “It’s careless and unnecessary. Since when are you the only one who can court high-end guests and build relationships?”
“I needed to check them out. See for myself. We know Hunter activity increases near the solstice, and something about the one guy’s backstory didn’t check out.”
“So you went in alone?”
“I’m never alone in here and the high-roller room has more attention than most.”
“The private villas don’t.” Gabe dug his phone out. “It’s careless.”
“It’s necessary.”
When Gabe said nothing, Rafe knew he’d hit a nerve. Rafe trusted his brother, more than anyone in the world, but he couldn’t stand by and ignore an opportunity to get the upper hand on a band of Hunters, especially so close to the solstice. The possibility of a rogue with money would be a danger beyond measure.
Besides, his damn Rejuvenation wasn’t supposed to happen then. It was nearly a month until the winter solstice and he’d been rejuvenating like clockwork since puberty.
Vernal equinox, summer solstice, autumnal equinox, winter solstice. His body regenerated then, not nearly a freaking month early.
“Guy ultimately checked out?”
Rafe shook off the lingering discomfort of his early change and gave Gabe his full attention. “Yeah. Charlie texted me the moment he had confirmation the guy was legit. I glad-handed him a bit more, offered him an extra night in the villa and hauled ass out of there.”
“You didn’t haul fast enough.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d considered letting himself into the villa next door and waiting out the burn but they were full up, the Archangel’s reputation ensuring all the rooms were accounted for. He and Gabe had taken their father’s life’s work and upped the ante. The hotel rooms were spoken for nearly every night and they had a list of high rollers the rest of the Strip envied.
Who would have believed success was so damned inconvenient?
“We’ve gone this long without discovery. Your life—all our lives—are worth more than one more high roller wasting his fortune at our gaming tables.”
Rafe rarely apologized but his brother hit a nerve. A fair one at that. “Look. I get it and I’m sorry. I’ve been tired and the moment hit me hard. I thought I had more time.”
A small grin finally curved his brother’s lips. “Losing your control, big brother?”
A few choice expletives bubbled to the surface but Rafe opted against the grain. He’d managed to blow over his brother’s bad mood, he might as well use it to his advantage. “You talk to Pop lately?”
“He and mom are still lounging around the Côte d’Azur and last I heard he was raising hell with the management at Monte Carlo’s casinos.”
“They let him back in?”
“Some sort of royal decree. I suspect the prince is sorry he got suckered in by the charms of one Michael Stavros.”
“Once a gambling man…” Rafe left the words hanging there, an image of his father giving instruction on the latest security protocols falling on some severely irritated Monegasque ears.
“Old man’s not settling into retirement well.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Nah.” Gabe shuddered. “Claims he’d be better at it if he had grandchildren.”
A wholly unexpected image of Evangeline rose up in his mind’s eye. She was absolutely unsuitable—she was an employee with a highly suspicious lineage—but Rafe couldn’t fully ignore the hot rush of need that accompanied the vision. “He can keep wishing.”
“You put Evangeline off?”
“Not dropping this one?”
Gabe smiled, the grin bordering on feral. “Not a chance.”
“The woman knows her mind and isn’t willing to be put off. I’ve got her down in the spa now, giving her the royal treatment and attempting to convince her she’s been working too hard.”
“Having any luck?”
“We’ll see in about two hours after Madelina’s team works on her.” Rafe stood from his desk, tapping the file folder that had already worn around the edges. “Of all the damn people.”
“Why?”
He and Gabe were as close as brothers could be, but he’d kept this from him. Kept the quiet knowledge to himself about Evangeline’s background and parentage. On a hard breath, he snagged the folder and handed it to his brother.
Gabe took the offering, his ability to quickly assess a situation more than evident when he snapped the folder closed a few moments later. “She’s a Hunter?”
“The daughter of one.”
“We’ve had a freaking Hunter on property for damn near a year and this is the first you’ve told me?”
He rarely second-guessed himself, but one look at Gabe’s face had Rafe reconsidering. “I’ve been watching her.”
“We could all have been watching her. Or better yet—” Gabe threw the folder on the desk. “We could have let her go on her merry freaking way and avoided hiring her in the first place.”
“She’s good. Her installations alone have increased foot traffic by thirty percent.”
Gabe stiffened up at that, straightening to his full height. “First the whales and now this? This place is our sanctuary. Have you forgotten that?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.”
“Then how can you ignore the fact the woman’s dangerous? To us. Our way of life. Our people.”
An image of that long, lithe form curled up inspecting the grass outside filled his head. Was she seeking proof? Attempting to set a trap? Or was it something else?
Rafe hadn’t sensed malice in her. More, she had an aching vulnerability about her that called to some strange, empty place deep inside of him.
Orphan.
Emancipated minor.
Workhorse.
None of those images matched with the sullen, disillusioned cadre normally drafted into the Hunters’ midst. Chaos thrived on the weak-minded and the easily swayed.
Evangeline Kennedy was neither.
“We got the intel on the two men she fired yesterday.”
Rafe knew his brother and there was no way he was dropping the subject of Evangeline anytime soon. But there was something underneath the comment that slashed through Rafe’s thoughts. “And?”
“They’re Hunters. My team’s tracked them back to a flophouse on the outskirts of Henderson. I’m headed there tonight.”
“I’ll join you.”
“Save it. You need to keep your focus here.”
“You won’t keep me out of this.”
“Then get your damn head in the game. She comes from the line of people determined to expose us and slaughter us all.”
“The Hunters are minions of Chaos. We’ve yet to narrow in on a leader. We’ve dealt with them before and we’ll deal with them again.”
“He’s here. I can feel it. Know it. There’s been too much static lately. Too many close calls.” Gabe dropped onto the edge of Rafe’s desk. “Don’t tell me you can’t feel it?”
Rafe shook his head, suddenly unwilling to put voice to the feeling. He understood Gabe’s point—had felt the same raw energy swirling around the casino and their people—but kept pushing against it, unwilling to act rashly.
He was the methodical Stavros, while Gabe had their father’s brash, devil-may-care attitude in spades. They complemented each other—they always had—so why were they so far apart on this? Rash action threatened their secrets, but so did ignorance. And it was time he remembered that.
Especially now that Evangeline had seen him take his true form.
And, by all accounts, was determined to understand what it all meant.
While she was still irritated at Rafe’s heavy-handed behavior, dragging her from the lawn and pushing her into a series of spa appointments, Evangeline had to admit the man had a point.
A great point.
If she could put together a coherent thought to remember just how great his point really was.
Relaxation! That was it. He’d been on her, stressing the importance of taking some time for herself and not working too hard.
Firm hands slid up and down her spine, kneading muscles and loosening knots she didn’t even know she had. The massage was the coup de grâce in an afternoon full of rest, relaxation and a significant amount of pampering. A facial. A manicure and pedicure. And some amazing thing with hot rocks that should have burned like crazy but instead, managed to loosen her muscles even more than they already were.
Why didn’t she do this for herself?
The question began as an abstract cloud, floating through her mind, but something about it stilled, expanding in her thoughts.
Why didn’t she do this more often? She wasn’t poor any longer. Far from it, in fact. The Archangel paid her a generous salary for the work she did across the property. She didn’t live extravagantly, her one-bedroom apartment more than enough room for the amount of time she spent there. And working on-property gave her a discount on the spa services.
So why not do this for herself?
Instead, she hoarded her hard-earned income as if she were still shivering and cold, hoping her parents would stop fighting or—worse—praying for the noise when their apartment got so quiet she could hear her own breath. She’d huddle in those moments, her parents’ normally volatile state hushed by whatever drug her father had managed to score that day.
“Miss Kennedy?”
The soft voice pulled her from the dismal memories, the hand on her spine gentle. “Hmm?”
“The treatment is complete. Feel free to stay and relax a bit longer. I’ve left some water on the counter.”
“Thank you.”
Hesitant to let the dreamy state end, Evangeline lay there a few more moments after the door clicked on a quiet close. Try as she might, she couldn’t fully bring back that delicious dream state. Instead, those memories of her parents peeked in, pressing against the edges of her memory with all the finesse of an attack dog.
Her father’s addiction. Her mother’s equally helpless outlook on life. And the loss of both of them by the time she was seven.
“Miss Kennedy.” The knock was soft, yet insistent and Evangeline sat up, pulling the sheet tight around herself.
“Come in.”
Madelina bustled in, her elegant form somehow softened in the muted light and calming music. Where she’d initially seen a militant effectiveness shining in the woman’s eyes before, Evangeline had to admit three hours of pampering had softened the edges of her vision. Madelina had gone from dragon to fairy godmother and she gave her a big smile. “Hello.”
“It looks like my team did their job.”
“They were wonderful.” Evangeline glanced down at her toes where her legs swung against the table. “I even have red toes.”
“Enough to drive a man wild.”
“I’m not… I mean.”
Madelina patted her arm. “It’s always good to be prepared.”
The woman seemed to understand she had nothing to say and bustled on. “Have you had your water?” When she eyed the glass still on the counter, she picked it up and marched it over. “It’s essential to hydrate. Drink up. Then you’ll come with me.”
The cool water, tinged with the refreshing taste of cucumber, was fresh on her tongue as she drank.
“You enjoyed the treatments?”
“I did.” Evangeline set her glass of water down, abstractly wondering if she’d ever tasted anything so good.
“Excellent. Because I’ve made a standing appointment for you monthly.”
“I don’t—” Evangeline broke off, not sure why she was arguing. She’d had a similar thought herself, so why be irritated when someone else did the kindness for her? And yet…
“Mr. Stavros has added it to your employment package.”
That urge to argue flared once more, even if Madelina was simply the messenger, but the woman held up a hand to forestall her.
“Mr. Stavros insists. Spa treatments aren’t simply a frivolity. You’re a woman who works with your body on a regular basis. It’s important to keep it finely tuned.”
“I can pay for it myself.”
Madelina cocked her head, those eyes sharp. Once again, the fleeting image of a dragon floated through Evangeline’s mind before vanishing. “But why do so when your employer presents you with such generosity?”
“It’s frivolous.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, either.” Handing over a fresh glass of water, Madelina pointed to the door. “Drink this, then join me in the salon. Berta will direct you once you leave the room.”
Evangeline watched her go, the conversation unsettling on several levels. She wanted the treatments—had thought that very thing as she lay there, soft and warm and boneless from an awesome massage.
So why complain when it was offered as a job perk?
An image of Rafael Stavros filled her mind’s eye, in clear answer to the question.
Tall and dark, the man was a walking, talking version of sin in the flesh. Mercurial gray eyes. Thick, dark hair. Chiseled features and a body that made her fingers itch. She’d never been a woman to ignore her body’s needs, but she’d also never understood the extremes people went to for attraction.
Rafe Stavros tossed that thought right out his penthouse window. The man was lethally sexy and equally formidable in his business. His father had established a successful casino whose business he and his brother had only shot into the stratosphere. From high-end restaurants to Broadway shows to a casino floor that boasted just enough winners to keep the tables packed, the Archangel had become a must-see destination on the Strip.
And she was part of it.
Draining the rest of her water, Evangeline hopped off the table and stretched like a cat. She hadn’t felt this loose-limbed in oh…about forever.
“So what are you complaining about?”
As she caught sight of herself in the small mirror over the treatment room’s sink, Evangeline had to admit to herself she had no answer.
As the original founder of the Archangel, Michael Stavros had a firm policy. Hire good people and leave them alone to do good work. If you found a gem, you had to respect their genius and leave them alone to do their best work in their own way. Alternatively, if you ended up hiring someone who was lazy, stupid or worse, both—fire their ass on the spot.
Although he and Gabe hadn’t adopted every practice their father employed in his own brand of management, some rules of business were immutable.
Hiring good people was essential.
It was why he’d been so drawn to Evangeline. Her work—and her passion and enthusiasm for that work—had stood out above all else. It had him hiring her on the spot and it had been the thing that kept her on staff even after he discovered her past. If the woman was a Hunter, she was a damn fine actress.
Because in nearly a year, all he’d ever observed was a woman obsessed with the look and feel of his property and very little focus on anything else.
Madelina interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Stavros. The things you requested are ready.”
“And Evangeline?”
“She’ll be out momentarily.” Madelina hesitated for the briefest moment—at odds with her normally tart tongue—and Rafe’s gaze sharpened on her.
“Yes?”
“She enjoyed the day. Told me as much.”
That hesitation remained and Rafe couldn’t resist probing further. “But?”
“I believe she’s a bit perturbed at the generous monthly addition to her compensation plan.”
“Is she now?”
Madelina only nodded, and he couldn’t hide his broad smile, already anticipating the battle that was sure to ensue.
“Madelina!” Evangeline’s voice echoed from the other side of the door to the interior of the spa moments before the thick oak swung inward. “What is this?”
Evangeline blew through the door, a goddess in full pique, her hands full of dresses. Her hair was pulled back from her face, sticking up at odd angles from the massage. Her face glowed a high pink—heightened by her anger but still rosy from her facial—and the sexiest toes he’d ever seen peeped out from beneath a long spa robe.
“You look well.”
Evangeline shook the dresses at him as Madelina slipped out through the still-swinging door. “Where are my clothes?”
“Laundry, I presume.”
“They were nice clothes. And clean.”
“Now they’ll be cleaner.”
Evangeline tossed the handful of silks onto a nearby couch. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. Taking care of myself. Sleeping when I want, working when I want. I do damn fine living my life.”
“What’s wrong with someone showing you some kindness?” Rafe asked.
“Kindness is a day off. Not spa treatments and expensive dresses.” Evangeline bent down and snagged one of the dresses. The move tugged the bodice of her robe ever so slightly and Rafe got a glimpse of tanned skin, tapering into the slope of one breast.
Catching his eye, she snapped the robe closed as she tossed the garment his way. “This is a thousand-dollar dress.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze flicking briefly to the fabric before taking in the thick, schlumpy fit of the robe. Even covered in acres of terry cloth, she was a vision. “I don’t see a tag.”
“I’ve seen it in the boutique window for a month. I know how much it costs.”
“So you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s yours.”
She shook the dress at him. “What is wrong with you?”
“We have a strict dress code at Flame. Since we’ve got reservations this evening I figured you’d like something to wear.”
“I have clothes. Good ones that are more than acceptable for Flame. And—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not going with you to the casino’s steak house.”
“We’ve got business to discuss.”
“Then we can go to your office.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re mad.”
“And you’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met.” Rafe moved in, the lingering wash of lavender and jasmine from her treatments assaulting his senses. “Most women like spa days. And new clothes. And nice dinners.”
“As a date, maybe. Not with their employer.”
“I can’t show you gratitude for the work you’ve done?”
“A thank-you is fine.”
Rafe took another step closer, those scents fading as something distinctly Evangeline rose up through the lingering effects of a day of pampering. Something earthy and natural, like the air after a rain or the bright scent of rebirth after he regenerated.
With gentle movements, as if a sudden motion would startle her, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Well, then. Thank you.”
Chapter 3 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
Rafe wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. First the misstep the night before during his Rejuvenation and now this focused, deliberate sensual assault on Evangeline Kennedy. It was dangerous and very out of character.
Yet he couldn’t seem to help himself.
A year of watching Evangeline from afar was suddenly not enough. Ignoring that strange tug of attraction that gripped him each and every time he saw her moving around the property had grown tiresome. And leaving the lingering question in his mind if she’d come to the Archangel to undermine his people was no longer tenable.
He wanted answers.
And damn it, he wanted her.
There was no reason he couldn’t have both.
It was a simple idea, formed as he’d marched from the security center to the lawns where she’d been determinedly seeking out scorch marks. But it had grown as she whiled away the afternoon in her spa treatment. He was going after the answers he sought.
If he could seduce them out of her, then the process would be that much more enjoyable.
“Say it,” he whispered against her ear once more, pleased she hadn’t yet pulled away.
“Say what?”
“Yes.”
His overt meaning was dinner, but something in the question stuck with him, searing his thoughts with images of the two of them, naked and locked in each other’s arms.
Would she say yes to sharing his bed?
A possible Hunter?
The thought was enough to jar Rafe from the tempting interlude and he stepped back and reached for the dress that had fallen next to his feet when she’d tossed it. The pale silk slid through his fingers and the stubborn ache that had settled in his chest subsided as his focus narrowed on his plan.
“It’s just dinner. Wear a pretty dress. Join me for a meal.”
Indecision painted her features in sharp relief, the heightened pink glow from her spa treatments fading as she considered his offer.
For reasons he refused to think about too closely, he held his breath, awaiting her response. And was more than a little surprised when she finally answered.
“Yes.”
For a woman who’d always prided herself on her unassuming life and the easy, simple comfort of her home, Evangeline couldn’t quite figure out why it felt like the walls were closing in. She’d returned home from her afternoon at the Archangel with several hundred dollars’ worth of spa treatments still coating her skin and a dress worth twice that in a small bag with silky string handles.
And she had dinner plans with Rafe Stavros.
Had her brains leaked out of her head somewhere between the facial and the hot stones?
She was a woman who worked in the dirt, for Pete’s sake. Her life—her own personal harmony—was never more in balance than when she was wrist-deep in the earth, planting any number of flowers and plants. So what was she doing?
A glance down at the bag—and a quick peek through the tissue paper—told her exactly what she was doing.
She was contemplating a date with her boss.
“You went way past contemplation when you said yes.” The self-admonishment fell flat as she stood in the middle of her living room, her voice a harsh clanging in her own ears.
So just why had she said yes?
Unwilling to think too hard on the real answer—because she wanted to—Evangeline marched to her bedroom and unpacked the small bag. She laid the dress out over her bedspread, then traced a finger over the silk.
And oh, wow, was it gorgeous.
The silk was dyed a pale lavender, barely registering in the purple spectrum. She suspected it might even appear a grayish-silver in muted evening light. Dying to put it on, she quickly stripped out of her clothes and pulled on the dress. The material slid over her skin with a cool caress and her mind immediately snapped to Rafe as her body gave out an involuntary shiver.
Thank you.
Such simple words, meant to convey gratitude. Yet on Rafe’s lips they were a sexy promise, encouraging her to take a firm step closer to him.
Where had it come from? This sudden, immediate dance between the two of them. She’d presented to him before, the quarterly design meetings with him placed on her calendar like clockwork. Yet something had snapped this time.
Turning to the mirror, she gave a small spin as the material hugged her body. Her year-round tan and natural coloring complemented the dress and something budded to life, pooling in the very depths of her being.
She felt feminine.
For the longest time, she hadn’t felt anything. A few dates here and there—fewer romps to bed to scratch an itch—but other than that her life was her work. Work that made her happy and satisfied, but over the past year it had become everything.
Why not go out and enjoy this evening? Even if something about it felt the slightest bit wicked.
Evangeline gave one more spin, enjoying the way the material gently caressed her thighs. But it was the moment she imagined Rafael Stavros staring at her as he got his first look at her in the dress that had her pulse racing. It was time she accepted the truth.
She had a date with her boss.
Flame Steak House was a joint effort between the Archangel and one of Rafe’s cousins, a world-renowned chef, Rocco Stavros. It had taken a considerable amount of persuading to get Rocco to come around and put one of his restaurants in the Archangel—the bastard had wanted a higher-than-average cut of the profits—but the decision had paid handsome dividends.
The food was exquisite, the steaks some of the finest cuts of meat in the world, complemented by an array of appetizers and sides that would make the most critical foodie sit up and take notice.
And take notice they had.
Reservations typically booked out six months in advance and for the holidays, some people had been waiting two years for their chance to dine this evening. Tonight was no exception. Rafe used the walk to his table to make discreet inquiries of his staff as well as to glad-hand some of the high rollers visiting this weekend.
Everything kicked up a notch over Christmas, and the casino business was no different. The hotel rooms were in demand, as were the gaming tables, the reservations and shows.
Rafe swirled the last of his whiskey, ice cubes clinking against the thick crystal of his glass. He’d arrived early ready to welcome Evangeline and was surprised by the shot of nerves that lined his stomach.
And then he forgot everything—nerves, her background, hell, he damn near forgot to breathe—as Evangeline walked through the entrance of the restaurant.
Pale silk sheathed her body, flowing over her breasts, waist and hips like a sexy waterfall. Unbidden, thoughts of Sirens and rocks came to mind. And while Evangeline wasn’t singing, Rafe could practically swear he heard music. Rachmaninoff. Or no, Puccini.
She stilled when she spotted him, the silk still shimmering around her like a halo, before a soft smile painted her lips. Strangely, it was the smile that calmed his nerves and had him moving toward her.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Rafe pressed a light kiss to her cheek, his fingertips drifting over her elbow. The urge to press his hands to her spine was strong but he held back, unwilling to break the subtle spell that wove around them both. The she-cat from earlier had vanished, replaced by a kitten-like softness he was loath to mar.
“Shall we?”
She nodded and they followed the tuxedoed host, who stood waiting discreetly nearby.
“It’s still so busy.” Evangeline’s voice was low, but her gaze assessed the room as they were escorted to his table in the back.
Although he knew his father preferred being front and center—all the better to see the action while being seen in the process—Rafe preferred something out of the way. And where he could keep his back to the wall and his gaze fully on the room.
Things had changed since his father’s time. His grandfather had been one of the first Helios to settle the area, enjoying the relative anonymity and distance from their natural adversary, the Hunters of Chaos.
Hunters still believed the legends—that the Helios guarded the gate of the ancients. Gain access to the gate and the Hunters’ master—the god of Chaos—believed he’d possess the knowledge contained within.
Rafe knew it wasn’t quite that simple. While his people did help secure the gate, knowledge had been leaking out for millennia. The world had changed, yet Chaos still acted as if it was the dawn of time.
His father had followed in Grandfather’s footsteps, enjoying his position as a mover and shaker in Las Vegas and ignoring the increasing signs the Hunters were making inroads. The occasional attack was chalked up to luck, nothing more.
While he and Gabe appreciated all their father had built, they practiced a far more cautious approach to their role as hotel owners and purveyors of a good time.
And always kept their backs to the wall.
Life had changed, inside and outside the Archangel.
Technology had radically transformed the casino business—the games, the rooms and the security most of all—but it had also honed their enemy’s skills. Recruitment through social media, transmissions through bounced mobile devices and a watchful eye that knew how to disguise itself.
“Enjoy your evening.”
The quiet murmur of their host pulled Rafe’s attention back to his lovely companion. Was it even remotely possible she was in league with the enemy?
He held a chair for Evangeline, careful to keep his expression neutral and his hands solicitously on the wood rail. Even with the restraint, the urge to touch her clawed at him, the dress she wore nearly knocking his breath away.
Once seated he no longer had a view of her exposed back and long, long legs, but he found himself distracted by toned arms and impressive chest. She was firm and fit, an athletic beauty that made him think of sun, sand and wrestling.
Naked.
“Rafe? Are you all right?”
Her dark brows slashed over equally dark eyes and he fought the urge to reach out and smooth the slight crease. “Of course.”
“You look upset.”
“Just keeping an eye on business. And cursing my cousin.”
“For?”
“My cousin Rocco is the owner and creator of the restaurant. Bastard keeps asking for a raise and much as it pains me to give him one, I can’t argue with a roomful of happy people enjoying their meals.”
The set of those slim, fit shoulders sagged slightly as she relaxed. “I had no idea your cousin was Rocco Stavros. I should have known by the last name.”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. And it’s hard to miss the loud sighs that flutter in his wake every time we’re in here managing the flower installations.”
“They’re beautiful, by the way.” He shifted his attention back to his companion. “But pale in comparison to you. You’re glowing.”
If the frank appreciation bothered her she held back, a smile ghosting her lips instead. “I’d hope so. The torture experts in your spa exfoliated me back down to the skin I was born with.”
Rafe ran a finger over the back of her hand. “They exfoliated everywhere?”
She slipped her hand away but her gaze remained firm on his. “A woman deserves to keep a few secrets.”
“I suppose it’s a wise strategy. It gives a man something to work toward.”
“To work toward what?”
“Uncovering them.”
Those expressive eyes widened, a million emotions flaring in their depths. He reveled in that look, recognizing he could use the confusion—and the underlying attraction he saw as well—to his advantage. What he hadn’t accounted for was the heady sensation of being in her company.
The woman was a vision. More than that, she was an interesting companion. They’d already discussed the property on their walk through the casino to dinner, her questions and insights astute and thoughtful, several of them tinged with a biting humor he’d not have expected from her. She was also sweet, waving and acknowledging by name several coworkers as they’d made their way to dinner.
Their waiter gave a discreet cough as he came to their table, effectively ending round one. From the besotted look in the man’s eyes as Evangeline greeted him, Rafe mentally added the man into the woman’s legion of fans.
And avoided the small kernel of doubt that attempted to invade the moment.
She knew people. Knew the property and what went on across the grounds. Was the warmth and kindness all an act? Was it possible she was plotting and planning to help her fellow Hunters?
The doubts came fast and furious, disturbing in their intensity. He’d always considered himself a strong judge of character but for some reason, in spending time with Evangeline, he couldn’t be sure. Worse, he increasingly questioned if he could be objective when it came to her.
Evangeline waited until Ross departed their table before she pushed her full attention toward Rafe and wondered—not for the first time—where he’d gone. Oh, he was sitting there, the fine cut of his suit making for an impressive—and incredibly attractive—dining companion.
But he wasn’t there.
Instead, he’d drifted in and out of their conversation since they’d met up in the hotel lobby.
If she’d believed him indifferent to her she might have chafed at the behavior, but his too-warm gaze and awareness during the moments he was present told a different story.
And then there was his touch. Hot as a brand and twice as powerful. Evangeline had never felt anything like it. Or been as tempted to let the fierce need that had settled in her chest have free rein.
She wanted him.
A simple emotion with the most complicated set of outcomes.
He was her boss.
He was a wealthy, powerful man who could have anything he wanted.
And he was hiding something.
The first two might be overcome or even ignored in the pursuit of pleasure, but the last was what held her back. She hated secrets, equating them to the same lack of power and control that had ruled her childhood.
She’d vowed to herself long ago never to be that helpless again. Her choices had made for a quiet life, full of a solitude she’d never planned on, but at least she was safe. Protected.
And if that protection had also become something of a cocoon, well, then, she’d live with that.
She didn’t do secrets. Or omission. And she’d be damned if she was going to accept a bald-faced lie.
Rafe might be charming, but he’d continually denied answering her questions about the burning man on the property. And lest he think a few hours in the spa and a fancy dinner would erase what she knew she’d seen, she now had to figure out a way to get answers.
But first, she’d play the role of ingenue for the evening and flirt a bit with the temptress routine. Stone-cold bitch certainly hadn’t done the trick.
“This is quite a place you and your family have built.”
“Thank you.”
When he said nothing more, she pressed on. “This hotel isn’t more than a decade old, yet your father and grandfather have legendary reputations in Las Vegas.”
Something almost imperceptible flashed in his gaze and if she weren’t watching him so closely she’d surely have missed it. “We purchased this property years ago but this end of the Strip wasn’t nearly developed enough for our needs. The original Archangel was over on Fremont and the Stavros family managed joint ownership or backing in other properties here on the Strip until we were able to bring our vision fully to life.”
“That’s all rather patient of you.”
“A trait my family has in spades.”
The sommelier arrived, effectively pausing their conversation and Evangeline took a small, unobtrusive pull of air through her nose.
Patience? Planning? Perhaps bit of world domination tossed in for good measure?
Who did she work for?
She’d taken the job on a whim, circumstance driving the decision more than an overt hunt for employment. She’d seen a need—the poorly managed grounds—and had pushed and poked her way into the Archangel. When she’d seemingly been accepted at face value, she hadn’t questioned her good fortune.
So why was she now?
A small, predatory light filled Rafe’s gaze, perhaps indicative of her sudden discomfort and uneasiness.
Their sommelier departed, two glasses of red wine left behind in his wake, and Evangeline lifted her goblet in response to Rafe.
“To patience.” Rafe clinked his glass against hers. “And all the dividends it inevitably pays.”
“Cheers.”
She took a sip of the wine, an exquisite explosion of taste on her tongue as she drank the rich red. The spa. The dress. Now the dinner. Rafael Stavros did nothing by half measure.
“Lovely.”
“As are you.” Rafe inclined his head before he settled his glass on the table. “What about you, Miss Kennedy? Are you a Las Vegas native?”
“I think so.”
The words were out so fast there was no way to retrieve them, even as the answer was far more honest than she’d ever have intended. While Rafe waited for her to continue, she weighed the merits of sharing her past.
How did one share the details of a wretched childhood that began in an abusive home and ended in the cold, airless confines of foster care?
And why did she even care?
“My pedigree isn’t nearly as well established as yours.”
Rafe’s eyebrows did lift at that, a mix of humor and affront painting those gray depths. “Are you suggesting I’m some sort of purebred dog?”
“No, but I definitely have strains of mongrel.” She took a sip of her wine, fortifying herself with the burst of flavor and obvious quality of the drink. While certainly not necessary, it did make the telling a bit sweeter.
“My parents were rather poor at their jobs. Both had drug problems, my father especially.”
Where she’d braced for sympathy, something more akin to anger morphed in the swirling depths of his gaze. Oddly, the unexpected reaction encouraged her, allowing her to push on. “The tale’s not new, but Vegas certainly doesn’t provide a helpful backdrop for those battling addiction.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I was young at the time, so there’s quite a bit I don’t remember. But one day my father just stopped coming home. My mother ranted and railed about it for months, falling deeper and deeper into her own abyss and then one day, it all stopped and she was gone, too.”
“You remember?”
“Some days.”
“And others?”
“I remember how I survived. Learning places to hide. Understanding how to read moods and body language and whatever else went on in a room. And finding my own solace in the small patches of dirt outside our apartment, the hardscrabble something I could make beauty out of.”
“A flower in the desert.”
“Perhaps.”
“There’s no perhaps about it. You clearly found a way to triumph over unfair circumstances no child should ever have to experience.”
“It’s why, you know.”
“Why what?”
She’d never been one to avoid or evade when she could simply go for what she wanted. It had been like that in foster care and she’d carried the trait on into adulthood. Hell, it had earned her a place at the Archangel.
Yet in this moment—at this time—she nearly backed down. Almost walked away in the light of that anger that still burned in his gaze.
Anger for her.
Evangeline felt it. Knew it, on a deep, visceral level. The story of her past had upset him. Angered him with a primal rage she could read in the set of his broad shoulders and the tight grip he had on his wineglass.
But a lifetime of loss and of looking out for no one but herself had more gravity than the rather new sensation of sitting opposite a champion.
“It’s why I won’t forget what I saw. Or stop looking for answers as to why there was a man burning to death outside the greenhouse last night.”
Chapter 4 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
White-hot flames licked at his soul, a dark, dangerous fire Rafe struggled to keep in check. He prided himself on his control—he knew who he was and what he was capable of—and always held himself—and his needs—in a firm grip.
Until Evangeline.
She was incendiary, a bright, vivid match to the flames that already consumed him.
And she was more dangerous than she ever could have imagined.
Damn it all to Hades, he’d intended to leave the subject of last night alone. He’d foolishly believed a day of pampering and seduction would turn her mind away from the impossible.
Or what should have been impossible but which was very, very real.
Evangeline Kennedy was too smart—and far too intuitive—to leave the subject alone. Even with all the efforts of Gabe’s security team, working to divert and dissuade her from what she’d seen, she was unwilling to be put off.
None of it changed the fact she’d also done them a massive favor by getting rid of the bumbling Troy and Victor. Their idiocy and obvious desire to infiltrate the casino was the reason she’d still been on the property at such a late hour, working without two team members.
Was it really possible she had no idea the men were agents of the very organization seeking to bring down Rafe and his people? Did he dare ask her?
Or more to the point, was he willing to deal with the consequences if she hid the one secret he feared?
His gaze roamed over the delicate lines of her throat, her tan honing her skin to a fine shimmer. The steady throb of her pulse reflected in the hollow, deep and rich, and he could see the light movement of her flesh where her life force beat. If he were closer to a Rejuvenation, he could even hear it, those first moments of renewed life always a trauma to the senses.
Was it even possible she was one of the monsters who hunted him and his people in service to Chaos?
“You won’t find anything.”
“I have to try.” Her dark eyes sheened with tears, the response as surprising as it was unexpected. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t. That sort of violence and pain. How can you expect me to ignore it?”
What if I told you it wasn’t violent? Wasn’t painful? Instead was filled with the richest sense of renewal and fresh life. It was the antithesis of pain. Of suffering. Of our mortal tether to human life.
But he said none of those things.
Instead he reached for his glass of wine and sat back in his chair, a bastard of the first order who wouldn’t break or bend, acquiesce or yield.
He was Helios.
And his secret was not to be shared or entrusted to another.
* * *
Gabe finalized preparations for their evening plans in the security center, his gaze on the screens that captured all the action down at Flame. His brother had been there for some time, his beautiful companion seated across from him, and the two were deep in heated conversation.
Normally, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Rafe had a date. His brother’s chosen arm candy for the evening always lit up a room—always drew attention to their perfect faces and even more perfect figures—and he’d grown used to the steady parade. What had become something of a family joke, his brother’s refusal to go anywhere near the merest whiff of settling down, had a certain sort of comfort to it.
A predictability Gabe had never really appreciated.
Especially when now faced with Evangeline Kennedy. As stunning as every other woman Rafe had ever escorted, there was something else. Something more. The woman was unique, her vibrancy extending beyond the simply physical.
And she was the first of any of their acquaintances to put them at risk. Add on Rafe’s recent Rejuvenation—totally out of pattern—and something didn’t sit well with him.
Gabe had gone back and reexamined the file, Evangeline’s sad past coming to life in each and every word. Despite his wariness, he hadn’t been unaffected by what he’d read. Or what he knew needed to be done. Hell, he liked her himself. She’d done wonders to the property in little less than a year, ran a tight ship, and the woman knew how to take care of herself. She was impressive and intriguing and he admired her.
If only…
The woman was a risk to them all. If she was a Hunter, she had far too much access. If she wasn’t, it was more than possible she could still lead the Hunters straight to their door.
Troy and Victor had been perfect examples. Both had checked out—Gabe had examined their employment files, too—yet both were on staff, plotting to do worse. Evangeline had dealt with them, but was it all an act? A show of camaraderie that would soften them up and assume she wasn’t in league with those who sought to destroy them?
He and Rafe had done everything in their power to make the Archangel a haven. They knew how to cloak and shield their existence, both from determined prying eyes and from the world around them. Add on the standard measures of security and caution required to run a world-class casino hotel and they had believed themselves safe.
Protected.
Was it an illusion? And had they really led the wolf straight to their door?
“Gabe!”
Charlie ambled up to the security station, leaning forward as he zeroed in on the image of Rafe and Evangeline. “Who is that? Wait—Evangeline?”
“Yep.”
“Rafe’s dating her now?”
“He’s watching her.”
Charlie leaned forward once more. “Damn right he is. She cleans up well.”
Charlie’s reinforcement of the scene playing out on the restaurant cameras did nothing to calm his spiking ire and Gabe tapped a few keys on the console, changing the main display. “Heard she had a tussle yesterday with a few of her employees.”
“Didn’t Trevor walk you through it?”
At Charlie’s narrowed eyes, Gabe pressed him. “I’d like it from your point of view.”
“She followed protocol to a T. Kicked both of her employees straight off the grounds for poor conduct and possible endangerment of hotel guests. Was pretty steamed about it, too, but she called Security and let us manage the removal of badges and escort off property.”
Gabe let Charlie talk, his matter-of-fact recap of events reinforcing what he already knew about the incident.
“Heard you were going to investigate them tonight yourself. Looking for company?”
“I could use an able body or two.”
“I’m in. I’m always up for a little Hunter ass-kicking.”
Reject, deflect. Parry, thrust. Like an endless dance, she and Rafe kept going round and round throughout dinner over the burning man on the hotel grounds. Oh, he’d done a good job of changing the subject, but each and every time she directed the conversation back that fruitless dance started once more.
For reasons she couldn’t quite name, that disappointed her most of all.
She liked him. When she wasn’t irritated at his obtuse behavior, she had to admit he was a charming and enjoyable dinner companion. And while he was way more than a little easy on the eyes, his appeal quickly extended beyond the physical.
It made whatever secret he was hiding that much more difficult to bear. And Evangeline wasn’t sure whether she was ready to back off or hunt down the police and the gaming commission in one fell swoop.
She knew what she’d seen. No amount of refusal or denial on Rafe’s part was going to change that. What had changed over the past two hours was her need to understand the reasons why. Why there was a burning man in the first place. Why she couldn’t see any evidence on the ground. And why nothing—absolutely nothing—showed on the security cameras.
Where she’d been initially wary that the Stavros family was hiding something illegal, or worse, committing crimes of their own, her time in close company with Rafe had shifted her direction. Her instincts might be on high alert, but increasingly it seemed there was a mystery afoot that had nothing to do with crime or greed or anything else.
The problem was, what sort of mystery would surround a man who burned to a crisp and left no detail, residue or ash behind?
Trying desperately to shake off the endless questions and keep her wits about her, she brought herself back fully to the moment. The two of them walked down the marble expanse that led from the restaurant to the indoor gardens, their steps slow and measured as Rafe asked her questions about the internal installation she’d proposed that morning.
“You think you can do this installation fully in two days?”
“Of course. We’ll start early the day after New Year’s and be done by the end of the next. Forty-eight hours, tops.”
“And when will you sleep in all this?”
Evangeline stopped at that, turning to him fully. “What is it with you and my work schedule? This benefits you. Your hotel. The experiences your guests will have when they visit. I’d think you’d appreciate a timely schedule and a plan of attack.”
“Not at the expense of your health. Your well-being.”
“It’s not like I’m doing anything else, anyway.”
The words flew out before she could stop them and the congenial dinner companion morphed right there on the spot. The stubborn, hardheaded man who refused to share any of his own secrets almost seemed to surge forward as he leaped to understand hers.
“What’s that about?”
A healthy blush crept up her neck, spreading toward her cheeks. “No holiday plans this year. It’s not a problem.”
“Will you be alone?”
A sudden chill swept up her bare arms, at direct odds with the embarrassed heat, and Evangeline fought the urge to rub her upper flesh. “It’s no big deal.”
“Forgive me if I don’t agree.” Rafe moved closer, his large hand closing around her empty one, devoid of her small clutch. “The holidays should be full of family and fun. The chance to make memories.”
I have plenty of those and none of them are good.
The words had nearly left her lips—nearly—before she caught herself. “I’m ready to make memories. The moment I watch the guests of the Archangel walk through the interior gardens in wonder and awe.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Why not? If it makes me happy, makes me satisfied that my work brings pleasure to others, what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It’s just that the holidays are a time for family. For being together. For celebrating.”
The banked embarrassment flared to life once more before it shifted—transformed, really—into whip-quick anger. Evangeline tugged her hand from his, taking a step back in determined self-preservation. “Not everyone celebrates. And not everyone has a family. More to the point, not everyone wants one.”
“You don’t want a family?”
“Of course I do. At some point.” And she did. It was her fondest wish, something she wrapped close to her heart each night as she lay down to sleep. Her lack of one haunted her as she worked the property, watching couples walk arm in arm or families laugh as they traversed the Archangel.
She did want a family.
But the very last thing she wanted was to discuss that here, now, with a rich Greek god who practically owned Vegas.
“You don’t seem in any hurry to make one.” The words shot back before a small corner of her brain—the one not short-circuited out by the impressive presence of Rafael Stavros—warned her not to talk to her boss that way. But it was too late.
“I have a family. A large, loud one who is up in my business each and every day, pressing me on that very question.” He leaned forward, a predatory smile painting his lips in a wolfish grin. “Are you sure they haven’t hired you?”
Lingering anger and loneliness and that weird heat that suffused every single nerve ending each time she got within ten feet of Rafe flared to life once more. She remained still, even as the urge to reach out and brush her fingers over the lush lips that still quirked in that naughty grin had her fisting her hands, one on her clutch and the other by her side. “No.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“It’s no secret you’re one of the city’s most eligible bachelor playboys.”
“A dubious honor at best.”
“You wear it well. You and your brother.”
“So you watch out for Gabe’s love life, too?”
With the evidence her words had been twisted once more, Evangeline stilled.
Stop talking. Immediately.
The order echoed over and over in her mind, at direct odds with what wanted to spill from her lips. Questions. Observations. And that continuing wonder at what secret he hid over the man who’d burned to a crisp on Archangel grounds.
Rafe reached out and dragged the tip of his finger over her cheek. “It’s okay if you do, you know. It’s nice knowing someone is watching out for me. Caring.”
“I don’t care.”
His eyebrows shot up before a slow, lazy haze seemed to mist over that enigmatic gray gaze. “Of course you don’t.”
The pad of his finger drifted from her cheek down to her jaw, painting a line over the delicate bone before moving on down to her neck. His large hand settled at the base of her neck, the tips of his fingers curling around her nape before he drew her close.
“What are you doing?” The question fell from her lips, a breathless whisper that sounded like it came from someone else. Someone sexier. Someone used to this sort of blatant seduction.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“Then let me show you instead.”
Rafe’s mouth pressed to hers, an insistent brush of lips that worked a magic all its own. Firm and persistent, in moments he had her mouth open, his tongue delving inside to explore secrets she didn’t even know she possessed.
But somehow he knew.
He seemed to know everything as his lips and teeth and tongue wove masterfully over her mouth, drawing a response that was both tentative and strong, timid and powerful all at once.
She wanted him.
It seemed like such a simple notion, steeped in the increasingly urgent needs of her body and the attentions of the man opposite her.
But for her, it was a novel thought, unexpected and deeply, crazily potent.
“Rafe!”
The heavy, baritone shout seemed to come from outside herself, an abstract thought that took shape and dimension as Rafe lifted his mouth from hers.
“What is it?” His words were clipped, with a gravelly edge that seemed to match the thickness that filled her own throat as Evangeline came back to herself.
Oh, no!
Her first thought was to cover herself, the power of Rafe’s kiss surely branded all over her exposed skin in the revealing dress. That thought was quickly followed by another. Gabe was standing there, his focus fully on Rafe as if he barely even saw her.
“We have an appointment this evening. I believe we discussed it earlier? You mentioned wanting to take part in the meeting.”
Something loud—even though it was completely unspoken—arced between the brothers and Evangeline came fully back to the moment. Embarrassment at being caught kissing Rafe in the lobby vanished as she attempted to decipher what neither was saying, even as their silence spoke volumes.
Rafe spoke first, his gaze flicking to hers before returning to his brother. “I’ll be ready to leave shortly.”
“I’ll meet you in the security center.”
Gabe marched off as fast as he’d arrived and she had the distinct impression he’d left an uncomfortable Rafe in his wake.
“I’m sorry to end our evening early.”
“It is nearly midnight.” She stilled, their earlier exchanges over the burning man at odds with the liquid desire that still muddled her veins like a thick, delicious milk shake. “An odd time for a meeting.”
“The casino business never closes.”
“So true.” She glanced around the atrium, currently filled with a holiday theme she’d spent endless days developing and refining. “Sort of like the flower business. We do what we must, when we must.”
With that, she took a step back. The desire to follow him and his brother was strong, but the unceasing eyes that followed everything happening in the hotel would no doubt capture her if she attempted it.
So she’d retreat. Review what she’d learned. And reassemble her arguments tomorrow.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” She ran a hand over the skirt of her dress. “A lovely day, as well.”
With that, Evangeline turned on her heel and left him standing in the midst of her flowers. The urge to look back was strong, but she kept moving forward.
And wondered how she was going to uncover the secrets he hid.
The large black SUV rumbled, silent as a wraith, through one of Las Vegas’s poorest neighborhoods. Apartment houses had the look of the abandoned or the damned, and the few souls who loitered in front suggested both. Rafe fought an inward shudder at the evidence of such poverty and despair. He wasn’t immune to the plight of those who lived mere blocks from the Archangel and they had several programs in place to ensure they didn’t further contribute to such problems.
But none of that stilled the inherent frustration that such horrible conditions existed next to the opulence and refinement of the Strip.
“Strange place, our hometown.”
Gabe’s comment was a funny mirror to his own and Rafe shifted his attention from the street. “I was thinking along similar lines.”
“Beauty and horror, wrapped up in one big package.”
“The universe does love balance.” Rafe murmured the words, and Gabe picked up on them quickly.
“Dad’s preached yin and yang for years. Nothing exists alone.”
“Just like us.”
The thought lingered in his mind, emotional ballast he was never fully able to shed. Even during each period of renewal, when his thoughts should be on rebirth and rejuvenation, he was innately conscious of the weight and responsibility that rested on his shoulders.
Their father had seen to that. For all his joviality and easygoing nature, Michael Stavros had always impressed upon them their duties and their responsibilities. Their people guarded the gates of the ancients. And while the Stavros family had made their life in Las Vegas, acting as protectors in the human world instead of taking up arms at the gates, they knew the path to the ancient world.
The Stavroses understood their destiny wasn’t the Archangel or Las Vegas or even the lives they’d live to the fullest. Their legacy was the fire they carried inside, born of the earliest times and entrusted to them by the very gods that ruled over the heavens, the earth and the lower realms.
“Are you prepared if there are Hunters in here?”
“Yes.”
“Your Rejuvenation came early.”
“And?” He shot his brother a dark look, the subject still a sensitive one.
For his part, Gabe ignored the attitude and plowed forward—his style since birth. “Any ideas why?”
Rafe had no clue and that nagged nearly as much as the fact that it had come upon him so early. They were creatures of the earth. Driven by the cycles of nature as surely as the moon and the tides. Yet instead of his Rejuvenation at the winter solstice, it had come upon him with unexplained prematurity.
A few days here and there were normal. Shedding one’s mortal form through the most ancient of fires took time, and pending overall mood, health, age and attitude, the process could take a few days. But nearly a month early?
Hell, he hadn’t been so misadjusted since puberty.
Gabe pressed on, oblivious—or uncaring—of the lack of response. “You haven’t said much about your date. Were you successful in persuading the beautiful Evangeline that she saw nothing last night?”
“No.”
That lone word hovered there, shimmering in the air between them as vivid—and lethal—as his own fire.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll be damned if I know.”
“No, you’ll be damned if you don’t do something about this.”
The dark snarl in his brother’s words matched his mood and Rafe had no interest in another lecture. They’d been down this road already. Hell, he knew the stakes and knew what was at risk. He didn’t need a freaking lecture to boot.
“Gabe—”
“We don’t know this woman. She’s a possible threat and now she’s bound and determined to nose around because you couldn’t be bothered to take care of yourself.”
“Lecture me one more time, little brother, and I’ll—”
The words died in his throat as Rafe stared at the flophouse before them. Enormous flames licked the walls, spiraling toward the sky as people spilled onto the lawn, disgorged from the smoke.
“What the hell?”
“The fires of hell, more like.” Rafe watched the flames as they crawled up walls, something seeming to pulse in the atmosphere around the degenerated apartment. A light, sickly-sweet scent on the air caught his attention and before he could check the impulse, Rafe was out of the car and across the lawn.
A woman and her children limped from the home, a baby squalling on the woman’s arm as two kids hovered around her legs. Snagging the children under each arm, he screamed to the woman, “Run!”
Fear and exhaustion painted her features, yet in that moment, he saw understanding.
“Now! I’ve got them!” Rafe held the children beneath his arms, their screams echoing in his ears as smoke filled the air around them. The smaller child, a little girl, kicked hard at his leg but he ignored the stab of pain, moving—always moving—away from the house.
Noise, great and hulking, hovered in the air around them, but it was the transitory moment of silence that had him taking his next move. On a hard push, he pressed the children into their mother, a few paces in front of them, then leaped on top of the family.
The air nearly rent in two as the apartment house exploded behind them. A great cracking sound filled the air the briefest second before heat engulfed them in thick waves. Rafe channeled his own inner fire, the move as natural as breath, and used the power in his own frame to press back against the wild conflagration behind them.
Power poured from him, thick, wild waves of fire that pressed back on the demonic blaze that continued to eat the apartment house. Smoke billowed everywhere, choking the air, and still, Rafe stayed where he was, his body a living cover for the shaking woman and her children beneath him.
Slowly, he felt the atmosphere shift, the immediate danger fading as the initial explosion died, the rapidly disintegrating building giving less and less fuel to keep the blaze aflame. The woman beneath him shifted, her eyes going wide as she caught sight of an area over his shoulder.
“But…you’re on…fire!”
Rafe shook his head, using her disorientation and fear to his advantage. Pressing her face to his shoulder, he let his own power fade, only letting go of her when his fire had fully winked out. “Shh. It’s okay.”
The woman scrambled from underneath him as Rafe sat back on his heels. Smoke still filled the air, but other than the soot that covered all of them, his clothing was intact.
“I don’t understand.” The woman scrambled up, her fear fading as curiosity and determination lit her features. “You were on fire.”
“It was behind us.”
“No. You—” She broke off as her crying children tugged and pulled at her, their keening wails diverting her focus. Rafe used the momentary distraction to his advantage, waving over several paramedics.
Gabe followed close behind, his hand extended to pull Rafe up, his face dark.
“Not here.”
His brother shook his head. “My thoughts exactly.”
It was only when they were back in the car that Gabe spoke. With a hard toss, something thick and metallic thudded into the SUV’s cup holder.
Rafe eyed the piece, a brass token with the distinctive marks of a swirling sky, wrapped around an all-seeing eye. “Son of a bitch.”
“I’m not sure which is worse. The Mark of Chaos or the fact you flamed up in front of a fucking lawn full of humans.”
Chapter 5 (#u494d2c68-0de1-5f3e-a778-21e0e7a50b47)
Rafe turned the small medallion over and over in his hands, the noise of his office flat-screened TV filling the air in the executive suite with a steady drone. The flat disc about the size of a silver dollar practically burned in his palm, a physical embodiment of all his people fought against.
There were Hunters in Las Vegas.
And if the medallion were any indication, the ones here were more than the simple, bumbling fools usually impressed into service on behalf of the great and all-powerful equalizer of the universe.
Chaos.
Oh, no. These would be well trained. Well funded. And far more lethal than the typical minion who wreaked havoc and discord.
Images of the fire still filled his thoughts, the physical imprint of that family still pulsing against the nerve endings of his chest. And that smell, its thick, sweet redolence filling the air moments before all hell broke loose. The news claimed it was a tragic outcome of a meth lab gone wrong, but he knew different.
The lab was the overt cause, the production of the dangerous drug coating the house with a lingering miasma that led to the explosion. But it was the power beneath it—the sickly fingers that had directed it all—that was the real and true danger.
Rafe crossed to his office safe and tapped in the ten-digit code. A small light flicked to green before a light hiss of air opened the thick metal door. He reached in and pulled out what lay hidden—protected, really—behind the reinforced metal wall of the safe.
The thick wood was heavy in his palm, an icon from another age. A spoke from the wheel of Helios’s chariot, nearly as powerful as the immortal hand that had crafted it.
The spoke was his family’s own personal talisman, entrusted to them from the dawn of the Stavros line. Though not immortal like their great ancestor, they were imbued with his power and his wards of protection.
And with that power and authority, they willingly protected the race of Phoenix that called Helios for their first ancestor. Rafe and Gabe, and their father before them, understood the responsibility—had lived with it since birth—but a battle had always seemed distant. Separate, somehow.
But no longer.
An image of Evangeline shimmered to life, her delicate features never far from his thoughts. Was she the source? The root cause of what was steadily rising to life? He’d have hardly believed it, but now found it hard to deny the evidence.
She was the child of a Hunter. And she had unfettered access to the Archangel. Was it possible she’d been the Trojan horse, delivered in a spunky, fiery package designed to distract even as it laid the groundwork for their ultimate demise?
He didn’t want to believe it, but the previous night had left him with a layer of anxiety he’d never felt before. His skin crawled with a strange energy, as if it recognized the seething, writhing threat that hovered nearby. He and Gabe had gone to the apartment house with the intention of finding Evangeline’s ex-employees, Troy and Victor. Instead, they’d found destruction and a very clear message in the planted medallion.
They’d also missed their targets. The meth lab explosion had left significant destruction in its wake, including two apartment residents who didn’t make it out alive, but the bumbling members of Evangeline’s team weren’t accounted for in the dead or the living.
Which only forced the additional question of just how bumbling and stupid Troy and Victor really were.
He and Gabe had argued the point until early morning, going round and round without answers. Gabe wanted to exorcise Evangeline from the property and Rafe continued to press for her to stay. His overt argument was so they could watch her. If she was a channel for the Hunters, she was far more useful to them nearby than from a distance.
And if a small part of him fervently wished she was oblivious to the threat that swirled, he’d live with that. Their stolen moments in the corridor downstairs had been some of the sweetest of his life and he refused to believe he was simply thinking with his hormones.
Even if he knew damn well they played a role, too. He wanted the woman. The razor-sharp claws of desire had dragged at him for days—hell, since she started at the hotel, if he were being honest—and something in spending time with her had only made that need more intense.
More urgent.
And far more potent than if he’d continued to deny his interest and stay away.
None of which answered the lingering questions that swirled around the subject of Evangeline Kennedy. Was she the reason for his early Rejuvenation? He’d felt the change coming on for a few days, but in those moments in the high-roller suite, hosting their potential clients, he’d been nearly overcome. Hell, he’d practically stumbled from the high-end villas across the back of the property.
And then he’d fully regenerated, practically in front of her.
Was it possible she had a hand in his early transformation?
He crossed to his desk and picked up the flat disk once more. The thick metal was warm to the touch, a strange, heavy counterpoint to the wood he held in his other hand. Power seemed to pulse between the two objects, that yin and yang his father was so determined to preach.
That strange, precarious balance that dictated their lives more succinctly than any plans or goals they set for themselves.
Rafe tightened his fingers around the objects before crossing back to his safe and relocking both firmly behind the metal door.
It was time to get some answers.
Evangeline let out a heavy breath as she took in the row of sculptures, set at odds among a bright, vivid infusion of flowers. The installation was a centerpiece of the Archangel’s entertainment corridor, an effusive welcome as casino patrons moved past several restaurants and bars.
And someone had craftily positioned two statues beside each other in flagrante delicto.
Where was Security when you needed them?
And worse, why was her mind immediately filled with impressions of Rafe?
Shaking off the erotic image of his mouth trailing along her skin, she desperately tried to focus on the problem. And off all the delectable places Rafe might put those lush, gorgeous lips.
The Archangel’s curator, Arturo, was bound to throw a fit when he saw that his prize sculptures, on loan through the New Year, had been tampered with. Worse, the insurance risk was enormous. She’d done a cursory scan of the marble to see if she might be able to move it herself or secure help from her crew, but there was no way around the problem. She’d have to call Arturo down from his lofty perch in the hotel’s third-floor art museum and get him to put a specialized team on repositioning them.
She dragged out her phone, already preparing herself for the inevitable shooting she’d receive as messenger, when she caught sight of security. Waving down the large, beefy figure, she continued to pace around the sculptures after catching his eye.
How had someone managed this unnoticed? She’d been there when the statues were set in place. Each easily weighted at least three thousand pounds, the Italian marble hewn into the erotically lusty figures that now stood before her. Where their original placement had suggested a sensual feast, sexy nymphs lounging or traipsing through the lush garden she’d wrapped around them, the new placement suggested raw sex and something decidedly dirty.
Like a public shaming. Or the ravages of original sin.
The ringing of the phone in her ear ended, replaced with Arturo’s clipped voice as his voice-mail message rattled off in her ear. Unwilling to linger, she ordered him down to the lobby and shoved her phone back in her cargos. Like she had time for this.
Just like she didn’t have time for dates or kisses or erotic images of Rafe.
The guard she’d motioned for still stood at the opposite end of the hall and she waved him down once more, adding a wolf whistle for good measure. Was the guy blind? And what was taking him so long? He’d be in trouble enough for leaving the statues in the first place, but to ignore a direct request?
“Why, Evangeline, I had no idea you’d planned such a fascinating display for the promenade.”
The dark voice, rich as sin, seemed to float over the back of her neck like a brand. The erotic images she’d fought against rose up once more, a tantalizing replacement for the side of beef who continued to ignore her from the opposite end of the corridor.
Turning on her heel, Evangeline went into damage control mode. “I did no such thing!”
“I’m not saying I don’t like it.”
“You shouldn’t like it. Someone’s tampered with the sculptures and I can’t seem to find Arturo and security’s gone MIA.”
The litany was enough to draw his focus off the sexy art and Rafe’s brows lowered. “Where’s security?”
“I have no idea. I’ve been flagging that hulk down there for the past few minutes and he’s ignoring me.” Evangeline glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see the end of the corridor empty, the mountain of a man nowhere in sight. “I… Where is he?”
“Where’s security?” Rafe’s gaze sharpened, his dark eyes sweeping the breadth and depth of the corridor. “Where’s anyone, for that matter?”
“I don’t—” She broke off, a strange, insistent pounding in her ears in direct counterpoint to her confusion. Where was everyone?
The Archangel lobby was rarely empty, although traffic dimmed considerably during the overnight hours. But it did not vanish in the middle of the morning, nor did the air hum with a malevolent sort of silence.
“What’s going on?”
“How long have you been here?” Rafe’s question was sharp, at odds with his subtle steps as he moved closer toward her.
“Only a few minutes. I wanted to refresh some of the flowers in here and then I found this.” A wave of embarrassment heated her skin, creeping up her neck toward her cheeks. “It’s not how they were originally placed.”
“Not at all.”
“But how could someone move them unnoticed?”
“You could.”
Those two words were spoken in quiet tones despite the accusation that screamed from each of them. “They’re too heavy. I couldn’t even push one.”
“Directed your team, then?”
“No!” The pounding in her ears grew thicker, adrenaline drumming a hard beat through her body. “Someone snuck in here and moved these. A group of guests, maybe, who thought it was funny. Or someone on Arturo’s team. I just found them.”
“Of course.”
Memories from long ago spiraled through her mind and she was once again a helpless child, at the whim of the adults around her. When in one of their moods, her parents had accused her of any number of childish crimes she’d not committed, and those memories braided with Rafe’s dark, endless stare. Fear wrapped around her throat with tight hands, nearly choking off her breath.
I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. No!
Forcing air into her lungs, she lowered her voice. “What are you trying to say?”
His eyes narrowed, a hard, storm-cloud gray that indicated he wasn’t persuaded by her response.
Did he honestly believe she was responsible?
Something swirled at her feet—a hard tug, really—that had her glancing down. The moment she did, a heavy gust of wind blew through the hallway with all the force of a hurricane. The tug at her feet became a hard drag, sucking at her shoes like cement while thick winds buffeted her. A scream crawled up her throat at the hard press of air that pushed against her bones with brutal force. The immediate urge to seek shelter was foiled by the large hands that wrapped around hers.
“Hold on to me!”
Rafe’s grip was tight but it was a solid match for the invisible tether that gripped her feet.
“I can barely move.”
“What?”
“My feet. It’s like I’m stuck or something.” Evangeline tried to lift her leg, straining against the force holding her down. She managed a few steps but a hard ache gripped the muscles of her thighs.
Rafe shifted his grip and bent at the waist, pulling at her leg. “Try once more. Match my movements.”

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